Menagerie
by EternalStarfire
Summary: War changes people, as does love.Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy know this. The question is, can they survive both? HG/DM.
1. One

**Author's Note**: I don't own HP. For everyone's info, I took out the lyrics throughout this piece because I don't think they add too much to the story. The song that went with this chapter is "Fully Alive" by Flyleaf.

Draco Malfoy was alive. He could feel again. Blood coursed through his veins at an alarming rate, mixing slowly but forcefully with adrenaline. And all it took was one look into those large brown eyes and the air was not knocked from him, rather, it was knocked _into _him, as though fresh air had been forced through his lungs and his eyes had been opened. He was possessed. His body was no longer his. It was a vessel through which his mind unraveled. He was no longer walking from class, he was floating. Floating on the air she had pressed into and out of him.

He wanted this strange feeling to last. At the same time, he wished it away. It was not real, he kept telling himself. He could not feel this for the woman. Not without tarnishing his family's reputation and destroying all he had worked for. However, it was there. And she knew. _She knew_. He could not fathom how, but the damned little witch knew about it. He had simply sat in his usual seat in Potions, directly across from her and who he considered the lesser two of the Golden Trio. Throughout the class, he remained concentrating on his cauldron, ignoring the Three as per usual, at least usual for this year. In years past, he would have taken advantage of the seating arrangement to harass all three of them, but this year, he simply did not have the energy. The War left him drained and colder than before, to the point he even ignored his housemates.

He could not ignore the Head Girl, try as he might have. Sharing the same living quarters left him bereft of any will to destroy her, even as he attempted to convince himself to do the Dark Lord's bidding. But, to Draco, killing Hermione Granger was like destroying every specimen of an endangered flower, gorgeous and filled with knowledge, and he had no right to pluck it from the ground. It went against all principle of blood and status, but he had grown fond of her over the last few months.

Maybe it was the way she always smelt of cinnamon and apples. Maybe it was her neatness and cleanliness. Or maybe it lay deeper then the superficial layer of her gentle beauty. He acknowledged crushingly her chestnut curls that had long since been devoid of their crazed messiness and her gently slender frame, and tried to wipe the images from his mind. It was wrong to see her this way, wrong to think that someone of the lowest dirty blood could be so crave-able. And yet there she sat, a mere six feet from him, chewing her quill and clutching her potions book as though it were her only protection from the slew of insults both Snape and Pansy threw at her each class. Indeed, she seemed poised either for attack or escape, her stance in the chair unnatural, as she sat at the extreme edge of her seat, one foot forward for leaping, one flat for control.

He was unsure as to when he had begun to notice the slight Gryffendor, he was only sure of the fact she seemed stuck in his head permanently. Something about her made her unforgettable to him. And a small part of him wondered if there was no irony in his-dare he say it- falling for her. The lion with the snake, the green with the red, the evil with the good; there was no proper fit for this in the world.

All that remained clear to him, was that she somehow felt the same way.

* * *

Draco tousled his white-blond hair as he peered in the mirror at his pale white face. Yes, it was obvious to everyone, that he had grown much paler over the moving months. His involvement in the War was evidently taking a toll on him._ How does Dumbledore not see that I cannot go on? How can he expect me to live through this?_

He paced his dormitory, his head in his hands, pressing his hair flatter against it,in a way, holding in his sanity_. _This could not go on. He could not handle everything that was being thrown at him. He was not a good Legilimens, and yet he was forced to meet with the members of the Dark Order just as he met with Dumbledore to exchange information. It was hard to remember to never think about what he heard in the confines of Dumbledore's quarters, and to never give the wrong information to either side. It was hard to sneak away when he was required, to slip into the Room of Requirement and through the small wardrobe closet to his father. It was harder still to meet the demands of his schoolwork, which had as of yet been increasing in difficulty.

As an errant thought, he wondered how the other students were managing to keep up. He for once could sympathize with the complaints of the Trio's male members, who through not lacking in brawn or determination, nor even in intelligence, they lacked the abilities Hermione was adept at utilizing, and often came to her for aide. He had no friends like that, as Crabbe and Goyle were the least likely specimens of intelligence within Slytherin House, and while Blaise was a good friend as well as dependable, he had no patience for such matters. Pansy, while good for a caress and concern, was rather dull and held no interest in anyone's schoolwork past the point of barely managing her own. She relied on using her "goods" to get ahead, and the only male who dared be only friends with her; excepting himself, happened to be Blaise, and that was hardly and endearing couple. Not to mention the humiliation of admitting that although he was Head Boy, sharp-witted, knowledgeable, curious and hard-working; even he could use a study partner would just about destroy any amount of respect anyone from the other Houses contained.

So where did that leave him?

He, Draco Malfoy, was nothing more than a pathetic creature, corrupted and cruel to the bone; and everyone seemed to know and believe this. It irritated and hurt him, at the deepest depth of his heart that he was exceptionally guarded around those he called friends, and genuinely hated by most everyone aside from them. She was the only one who knew the real him these days, and he couldn't fathom her fascination. If he found himself to be as ugly-souled as he did, how could she find the good in him?

Sighing, he took up his bag and coat, and headed off to Transfiguration. Before he got out of the common room, Granger came hurtling through the door, and straight into him.

"Oi! Watch where you're going Granger," he said as she brushed past him.

"Oh, I apologize I guess, Malfoy," the way she said his name made his stomach roll. She said it with so much animosity, that it surprised him. What had happened to their truce? Where had the friendliness gone? Had something changed? She reached the top step of the staircase to her room, and paused. He was about halfway through the door, when she spoke again. "I really am sorry," she whispered.

He sighed and just as the portrait closed behind him, he replied just loud enough for her ears to catch it, "I know."

* * *

Hermione threw herself on her four-post bed as soon as the portrait swung close, Malfoy's blond head disappearing through it. The tears came easily, flowing from her brown eyes like a small waterfall, soaking her pillow cover. How on earth were they going to make it through this? Their old habits crept up upon them, now and then, and it seemed the strongest thing between them was their delicate emotions and their ability to hurt the other. She could remember the September evening when she had crept quietly into the dorm well past midnight, after an "adventure" with Harry and Ron,and had accidentally trodden on a hunched over Draco, laying by the bathroom floor. He had thrown up all over, and seemed to have fallen asleep from utter exhaustion. She had done the only thing she could do: levitated him to his bed, scourgified all the remnants of sick, and pretended nothing had happened the next morning. At the time, she had been hoping he would never mention it, and for a few days, she was sure nothing had changed. In fact, nothing had, except she found herself watching the wizard more closely.

For a while, he had taunted her when they had first moved in, but within three weeks, he had ceased every derogatory term in his vocabulary, and instead had taken to ignoring her, or simply accepting her presence in the common room. The most he seemed to be able to conjure up was a hateful tone in his utterance of her last name. That simply had no real effect on Hermione, as she went out of her way to avoid him out of habit.

But, eventually, she grew aware that something was troubling the Head Boy. It was plain to her in that his eyes had lost their sparkle, his hair was more lackluster than she could ever recall seeing it as so, and he seemed thinner than usual. Even Harry had noticed the subtle changes in him, commenting on Malfoy's performance in Quidditch one October night at dinner.

_"What a victory, Harry," Ron had exclaimed upon sitting at the table. "We really killed Slytherin this time."_

_"I would agree, except that they hardly were playing up to their usual standards."_

_Hermione cut in as soon as a sandwich had found Ron's mouth. "How do you mean, Harry? They still gave you hard game, as usual."_

_"What I mean is, a few of them were slower than I expected. Malfoy's reflexes aren't what they used to be. The snitch came so close to him many times, and he barely made a move for it. Do you remember when I caught it and we won? He seemed half-hearted, distracted, really. He was nearly on the other side of the pitch, and he didn't even make the dive for it as he normally would." Hermione had met his eyes, then looked back at the food in front of her. He was right, she decided. Something was definitely off about him._

Now, she rolled over. Why was she so overcome with cruelty just now in the common room? There was no answer, except in that they had had a falling out the night before. He was not being honest with her, and she had called him on it. She couldn't say what was worse: her desire for knowing what he was hiding from her, and he was hiding something; or the immediate guilt and regret she had felt as he had stormed from the room and slammed his door behind him. She had not heard another word from him the whole night, and had not had the guts to knock on his door and apologize. Then, this morning, she had not seen him at breakfast, and hoped that by Potions, he would be alright with her apology.

Sighing, she opened her Potions book, overturned the picture of them she kept hidden from her friends within its pages, and started her homework.

**Attn: **Well how's that for a first chapter? Reviews please.


	2. Two

**Author's Note: **I own neither the characters nor the lyrics. Just the ideas! ( The song that inspired this chapter was "Again" by Flyleaf)

Draco was, for only the second time in his entire life, dreading Potions. His finest subject, he usually enjoyed the class, even without the plus of his favorite Professor. But, Hermione-Granger-he corrected himself- would be there. He hoped her demeanor was changed by the time she took her seat, but as the clock struck one, she was nowhere to be seen. Even Potter and Weasley were shifting uncomfortably in their seats, talking in hushed whispers; evidently, they had no idea where she was either. Draco sighed. He hoped she was still in their dorm, and might have fallen asleep and was simply running late.

However, as the lesson began and they were starting their brewing, it was clear that she was not coming to class. Neville Longbottom, who Draco despised but secretly held sympathy for, sat at a loss in his seat, pouring over his textbook. Without Granger, he was doomed, as she almost always managed to help him to at least get the potions half right. This time, however, even he found himself having trouble with the lesson. Snape had chosen a most difficult potion, clearly under the impression that he could fail everyone today. Draco begged to differ, yet he stared at the instructions like they were foreign language. He could not concentrate for the life of him.

Snape slid between the rows, glancing into everyone's cauldrons, and it wasn't until he sneered into Draco's and the class gasped did he realize he had nothing but water boiling away. "Again. What's this, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco jumped and stared into his cauldron, then slowly glanced up at Snape. He sighed.

"Nothing, Sir."

"Precisely," he raised a greasy disapproving eyebrow, and circled back to the right. "Best get to work," he barked. Draco nodded, and turned back to his book. When he read the potion's name, he jumped, and clenched his fist. Malum deprehensio venenum. He read on, having heard of the potion.

_Malum deprehensio venenum, or more commonly, the evil-detection potion. Detects any recent contact with evil within the drinker,and, often used in interrogations, is extremely powerful in it's most basic form._ Draco hoped that Snape wasn't planning on having anyone actually consume the potion, as he could only imagine the disastrous effects if he, himself took it. His covers on both lines would be destroyed, and he'd assuredly be removed from his post and extracted from the school.

So, he decided to simply do the potion very slowly, so that he'd be unable to finish it within the class limits, thereby saving himself even if he received low marks. He breathed a sigh of relief that Granger was not in attendance, as she would not be guaranteed safe, having been in close contact with his very arms the night before. Sighing as he stirred, Draco allowed his mind to wander just a little to the night before.

They had come in from dinner, at separate times of course, and he'd stretched out on the couch to do some charms homework, while she'd settled into the love-seat across from the fire. Eventually, having lost interest in his work, he'd looked up and instead chose to study her as she read. Every now and then, she'd bite her lip, or her eyebrows would scrunch up; ans she'd grab for her notebook and jot something down. Otherwise, she sat quite still, as though content and comfortable, as anyone should have been in such a fluffy chair. He'd attempted nonchalance, yet she'd looked up into his gray eyes with perfect timing, and he'd slid from the couch.

She raised an eyebrow as he circled the room and dropped his books on the center table, and he tried to hide his mischievous smirk. "You're up to something," she'd offered suddenly, and he couldn't help but grin.

"You'll never know just _what_ I'm up to, though," he'd drawled calmly.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," she'd replied, closing her book as he rounded the corner behind her seat. He came up right behind the chair and folded his hands on the back. She looked up.

"Do you now," he asked curiously, not exactly sure himself where this was going. She frowned slightly, then half-smiled at his expression. She nodded. He bent over the chair, until his head was level with hers. He blew on her ear, and she giggled.

"Seducing me."

He turned around from his pose and stood where he was directly in front of her, and she stood up, her head just reaching his shoulder. He mock-sighed, and appraised her slowly. "Is it working," he whispered.

"Not in the least," she smirked. He closed in on the remaining space between them, and, though she had no where else to go, Hermione had scrunched herself back into the chair. Draco, however, was not to be hindered, and smirked as she looked up at him and blushed. Suddenly, she giggled, as his hand shot out and pulled her from her seat.

Draco pulled her close, resting his chin on her curly head, and sighed contentedly. "Why can we not be like this all the time, Granger?"

"Well, first, you are an awful, evil prat; and, second, we hardly have the opportunity as it is." She gazed up at his silver eyes when he pulled away slightly, and smiled slightly, rather wistfully.

"That has just got to change, then." He smiled and cupped her cheek softly, and she nodded slowly. "Now, back to seducing Hermione Granger: my favorite pastime."

Hermione took charge this time, tired of his slow torture, and leaned in, softly touching his lips with her own. They sighed together and allowed themselves to be lost in the moment. Shortly thereafter, Hermione pulled away before their kiss became too steamy, and Draco groaned. "Seriously," he sighed, holding her captive gently to his chest, "do you always have to stop there?"

"Yes, I do. For now."

"I think you're afraid of what will happen when we do go further. You are afraid of second base." Draco looked seriously at her for a moment, waiting for her response. She simply shook her head. His eyebrow raised at the girl in front of him, and decided she certainly was not kissed enough. Of course, if he had anything to say about it, she would never look neat and tidy again, and, if time were ever kind, he'd have her in his bed forever. Yet he knew he had to take it slowly with her. She was no Pansy.

"I am not a coward of anything, Draco." He hated and loved it when she called him by his first name; it usually was meant in a scolding way, but he longed for it to roll off her tongue easily. Almost as much as he wished he could call her Hermione without feeling odd.

With that, she took her book and her bag and swept up to her room.

* * *

It was nearly Christmas Break, and Hermione had no idea how she was supposed to tell Draco goodbye. There was simply no where near enough time to get things done the ways she wanted. She, Harry and Ron had been, as of late, spending quality time together finishing up their studies for upcoming exams the Professors had scheduled_, _and then she had been devoting the rest of her time tending to her Head Girl duties, her own homework, and attempting to teach Ron more about the finer arts of Transfiguration. This, admittedly, was not working out at all. And now, she was cruelly made aware that she had spent zero time with her secret boyfriend for two straight weeks, as Draco stormed into the central room.

"Granger..." he all but growled, "We need alone time so put that damned work away!" Hermione couldn't have protested as he strode arrogantly over to where she was curled on the sofa and grabbed her books from her hands. He threw them in a pile across the room, and as Hermione shook her head rather bemusedly and went to retrieve her work, he wrapped an arm around her waist and directed her backwards to the small love-seat adjacent to the sofa. "Now, how are you," he asked angrily.

Hermione couldn't help it, she giggled at the mixture of his tone and question making his brow furrow further. "I-I'm great," she stammered through short giggles. He pulled her swiftly onto his lap, and she giggled further. His expression melted into a wide smile, as though he'd just entered a candy store. "And you, Malfoy? How have you been?"

"I could be better. Why have you booked yourself solid these last two weeks? I thought we'd agreed we needed time together, but the most I've seen of you is your bushy head shooting in and out the door. You don't even study down here like you used to!"

"I've been studying for exams. Haven't you?"

"Yes, at the library, jealously watching you, Scarhead, and Weasel from afar."

"Well you could always join us," she smirked in reply, choosing to ignore the slights on Ron and Harry.

"Oh, I'm sure we'd all enjoy _that,"_ he frowned to accentuate his sarcasm. "Actually, that would be as bad as murder."

"I know, and I lied. You were never enjoyed."

"Of course not." He leaned in, waggling his eyebrows mischievously, causing Hermione to emit another furious gasp of giggles. "Now, we must make up for all our lost time."

Hermione could do nothing but nod, and met his lips halfway.

Later as they sat reading on the sofa, curled up together, Draco nudged a sleepy Hermione from her book. "What are you doing over break?"

"Going to Grim...I mean, the Burrow. Why?"

"You're lying, but I was asking because I want to keep in touch. I'll miss you, you know."

"I know."

Hermione leaned her head back against the seat rest, and turned back to her book as he lapsed into silence. For about an hour, he seemed lost in his own studies, before he stirred again, with an angry sigh.

"You know I care about you, right, Granger?"

She had no idea why he was asking this now, but she supposed he simply needed reassurance. "Mmhm. And I care much for you."

"I know. But I have no idea what you see in me," he set aside his book carefully," I mean, I'm kind of a bad guy."

Hermione laughed. "The bad guy I fell for then. I don't know what I see in you either, but whatever it is, I like it a lot. No matter what you do, I know that wont change." He could be so absurd sometimes, coming up with hypothetical situations between him, quizzing her on how she'd react to the likes of him murdering, plundering, or worse. But every time he did, she assured him that her feelings couldn't change, though she wasn't exactly sure of what her feelings were just yet. If he was as evil as he allowed himself to be painted, then she would eventually have to give in to the inevitably of leaving him for the greater good. What she really wanted to was scream "screw the greater good, lets get married!" That could and would never happen. Too much was at stake. She sat up and collected her books, stowed them in her bag, then collected the scattered remnants of her work that he'd strewn around.

"Going to bed?" He frowned again, his eyes looking almost pained in the firelight.

"Yes, I need an early night tonight. Goodnight Draco," she called as she ascended the stairs to her room. Hermione looked back before going inside, and he looked up at her from his seat, and tried to smile.

"Goodnight...Hermione." She knew she'd redeemed herself from her cruelty weeks earlier, though she wasn't quite sure if he'd either forgotten it already, or simply canceled it from their lives. She hoped that he'd be okay when she left him that weekend, though it sounded like he was apprehensive about having her out of his careful watch. After all, he was more aware than she'd expected that she'd lied about where she was staying. She'd have to ask him about it as soon as she got a chance.

**Attn:** Yay! Another chapter down. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews please?


	3. Three

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took a while to get up! I own nothing but the idea and what I have written. Warning: some language use in this chapter. Sorry if it offends anyone. (Song that inspired this chapter: "Treasure" by Flyleaf)

Hermione was excited. Tonight was her chance to show Draco her heart. She had promised him that they would have dinner together before they left for Christmas holiday, however she was concerned he might not show up. He had seemed happy with the idea, but had quickly turned back to his work as soon he had accepted her invitation. Maybe he was just as much of a determined student as she was, or maybe he had simply lacked anything else to say about it. Still, it was Draco Malfoy-he was well known to be caught up in his own thoughts.

So, she applied a charm to her hair in hopes that it would calm a little so that she could pull it back into a bun. Gazing at her reflection, she felt more than ready to tell him exactly how she felt. Maybe tonight would even be the night...she sighed nervously...that she would find out if he was every bit the Slytherin-Sex God he liked her to think he was. Hermione smirked. What an absurd idea, the prim, proper Gryffendor Queen, as they had taken to calling her, lying with the evil snake. But however dark he was, Draco was simply not evil. Even Harry had been forced to admit his lack of evil intentions this year. Only Hermione knew that Draco had only grown up and had decided that insults and petty fights were beneath him. All she had left to manage was trying to convince Harry and Ron that this was truth...maybe then they could open up about their relationship.

Her stomach did a back flip, and she decided she could dawdle no longer. So, she made her way down to the Great Hall and headed to the entrance, where they had agreed to meet. Luckily, she had asked Professor McGonagal for permission to go into Hogsmeade on such a night as this. Normally, students were not allowed out past nine, ten for the seventh years. Naturally, the Head Boy and Girl had special privileges, so Hermione smartly took advantage of them.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Oh! Hi!" She tried to contain her excitement, but failed, and all but screamed joyfully. She cursed herself silently. He cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised at her excitement, and loudness. She looked guilty, and he laughed.

"You feeling alright, love?"

"Yes, sorry, I'm just glad you came." He took her hand discreetly and they headed past Filch...who gave them glares aplenty...and out to the road to Hogsmeade.

"Oh? I promised I would," he pulled her closer to block the wind somewhat, "did you not believe me?"

"No! I did...I'm just...happy." He chuckled again, while she just wondered how he could go without wearing a hat. Surely he must be cold! But he was quite warm against her, blocking some of the wind chill. Her stomach writhed uncomfortably at the thought of how she had come to the conclusion that his pale head must be cold without a hat, and was about to comment on that when he bent down without warning and kissed her very gently.

"I'm happy too."

"So... to the Three Broomsticks?"

"Ummmm...well, I'm not exactly that's a good idea, I mean, because..."

"Oh. Yes, well I'm sure you're right." Inside, she was screaming at herself, _why didn't I think of that?_ "Then where to?"

"How about Monsier Deppuis? I'm sure you have not yet been?"

"Oooh is it French?"

"Yes, the food is excellent, too." He steered her in the direction of the small French restaurant and Hermione couldn't help but smile when they got inside. It was warm and cozy, romantic and yet it didn't make her feel old. It was perfect. The server hurried over to them, and led them to a table in the back, by the fire.

"Will this do," he asked nervously, and Hermione guessed that he had recognized Malfoy's telltale blond hair.

"Oh yes, this is fine," Draco replied warmly, making the boy relax somewhat. Hermione beamed. This was her Draco, the one she found herself in love with. If only he were like this all the time.

Draco ordered for them, after asking Hermione what kind of food she preferred, and she simply gave him the number of the entree she wanted. He was impressed that she knew French, and squeezed her hand over the bread bowl as he read over her selection. It came as a surprise that they had ordered the same thing, and it had them laughing for a few minutes. He couldn't believe she liked fish as much as he did, nor could she believe that he actually liked green vegetables.

As they dug in, Hermione noticed him watching her through his bangs as he took each bite. It was rather endearing really, though also kind of annoying. Finally, she couldn't ignore his expression any longer. "What is it? Do I have something in my teeth?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"Is it not alright for me to," he lowered his voice, "stare at my girlfriend?"

"No it's alright. It's just that you seem...distracted." She feigned nonchalance as she speared some spinach.

"You're leaving in two days," he said flatly. Hermione put down her fork. She had completely forgotten that small detail. Amidst her lessons and studying, she hadn't even packed. She swallowed nervously. "You weren't going to tell me." That too, was a statement. He was angry, she could tell by the way he was clenching the tablecloth.

"I'm sorry...I meant to. I've been so busy." His expression was unreadable and he put up a hand to stop her.

"Check please." As soon as he had paid, and Hermione quickly left the tip, he got up and stalked from the restaurant. Hermione grabbed her coat and ran after him. She felt so horrible, but she had to admit she hadn't been expecting his loose-cannon response. It wasn't as though it was her fault, or that she could be blamed if she accidentally got too busy and any thoughts of break had left her mind.

"Draco! Wait!" She was using his first name in desperation, running after him in the cold and the snow, and suddenly he stopped. She had hopefully hit a good nerve.

"Why? Don't you need to go study?" He spat his words scathingly, and moved quickly to face her. Hermione opened and closed her mouth in shocked pain. "Obviously that is what you'd rather be doing. You said it yourself: you have no time for anything-or _anyone_-else."

"What?"

"You heard me, Granger."

"N-no!"

She rushed up to him and tried to wrap her arms around him. He resisted and pushed her hands off of his waist. "Don't."

""No! Listen to me!" She grabbed his cold hands again, desperately trying to get through to him. She secretly wanted to slap him, and wondered if that would actually get him to pay attention. "Stop, stop, stop it!" She was all but screaming. Suddenly, he grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth, pinning her to him.

"Oh do _shut up_,"he snarled, looking around and slowly drawing his wand. He held her tightly, so she couldn't move. "We're not alone..."

"What the hell?" Her voice was muffled, but she tried to speak anyway. Her stubbornness was probably good in this situation. Less great in others, she mused, as she wondered what the heck was going on. The evening had turned into a disaster, and now he was muttering something about knowing this would happen. Hermione silently blamed herself. He yanked her with him into a dark alley. He let her go slowly, gently almost, and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Stay put, and please, please, be quiet. Don't do anything. Don't move. I'll be right back."

"What's going on? Where are you going?"

"Hush up," he turned to leave, hesitated, and came back to her. He looked down at her for a moment, kissed her softly on the lips, then was gone.

Hermione did what she was told, for a while anyway. After fifteen minutes, she grew impatient, and worried. It was just so like Draco, leaving her mysteriously, disappearing to Merlin-knew-where, and not telling her to do anything but 'stay put.' How _dare_ he? Did he think she was helpless?

Well, she just wasn't going to listen to that bull. Taking out her wand she whispered "lumos," and took a small look around the corner. The streets looked deserted to her, so she wandered cautiously out of the alley, keeping her mind about her. There was no noise, save for the creak of a shutter on a window and the howl of the wind. She decided not to stray too far, but to have a look around. Her curiosity was getting the best of her, she noticed, as a crawling feeling going up her back alerted her to the general unease of the situation.

* * *

When Draco got back to the alley where he had safely left Hermione, she was gone. Cursing himself, and her, he gazed around at the ground for signs of her footsteps. Unfortunately, what was left of what he thought had to be her steps were mostly filled in with snow. He looked around and up at the pitch black night sky. The Dark Mark was still hovering over the Three Broomsticks, and he hoped to the Gods that she was still alive. With one last look around, he turned and ran in the direction of the last of the steps.

His breath hitched in his throat as he ran. Where _was_ she? Damn them all to hell, he had to find her before it was too late. He couldn't go back to the castle without her. Where would he go instead? Home? No...there was nothing there for him. He felt so horrible, and this was all his fault. And yet it wasn't, he hadn't known they would be in the town, he hadn't known she'd be in danger. If he had, he still didn't know how he would have told her they couldn't go for dinner. It would have broken her heart. Not that it mattered now, he was sure she thought this had been part of some plan. If only they hadn't fought, if only he hadn't left the restaurant, maybe she'd be safely wrapped in his arms as they walked up to the castle together, unaware of the village's ravaging.

So, he ran. And ran, and ran, and ran; until he found himself going in circles. So much damage had been done by their attack, houses were burning or burnt down, shops had been damaged terribly, and he could now hear shouts as residents finally saw the Mark in the sky and started yelling. He went to turn around another corner, when he heard his name.

"You there! Malfoy's boy! Come here." Draco's jaw clenched as he turned to face Macnair. He reached slowly for his wand under his robes, trying to keep the movement unnoticeable, he did not want a fight. Slowly, he made his way over to the Death Eater.

"Hello sir," he said, keeping his voice even.

"Caught that friend of Potter's did ya hear? The bushy-headed one." Draco looked up in alarm, but recovered before the man noticed. He tried to look glad, but in truth he was ready to cry. "Ya, I'm glad too. Bella's got her in the pub, you should go check it out. I know you'd love to see that Mudblood learn who's boss." The evil man chuckled.

Draco sneered in disgust. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes, get there fast, before it burns totally. The old bat took quite a fright and ran, so it's ours for awhile. Go on, boy."

"Er, yeah..." Draco cursed under his breath, and nodded before he disapperated. The Three Broomsticks was crumbling to the ground, but it was not totaled yet, and Draco cringed as he entered the building. Inside, the damage wasn't as bad; there were only a few broken tables and chairs, and a case of Butterbeer had crashed from the shelf, spilling glass and its contents all over the floor. He guessed that the building had been protected with charms, to minimize damage. He smiled in respect to Madame Rosmerta's ingenuity.

"Ickle Draco!" He turned slowly, too meet Bellatrix, who was giggling madly. "We got the Mudblood whore!" She giggled some more, and pointed to a back room. "Why don't you make Auntie happy and go torture the bitch?"

"Umm...okay," he said with no emotion. He wondered for a moment what would happen if he just killed Bellatrix now, took Hermione, and left. He didn't even know if he could kill anyone. He felt as though he was angry enough, but his cowardice was fighting to be acknowledged. So, he simply headed to the backroom.

Hermione was tied to a chair, under a hot lamp. Her hair was exploding in frizz, and there was a shallow gash on her cheek. She looked up the minute she hear him enter. He rushed to her, and wrapped his arms around her. Untying her binds, he kissed her forehead again and again, then her nose. She pulled away from him and left the chair. She backed away from him.

"Hermione! Come here, we're getting out of here."

"Why did you lie to me? You knew this was going to happen. This was a trap, wasn't it? All of it! That's why you didn't want to come to dinner in the first place. You knew and you, you've been leading me on, haven't you!"

"No! No," he rushed to her again, and tried to reach for her arms, but she brandished her wand and pointed it at his throat. "Stop it," he whispered hastily," I didn't know this would happen, honestly. I'm so sorry. What did she do to you?"

"Stop acting and stop talking," she demanded, stepping forward angrily.

"No. No, listen to me," he batted her wand away, and pulled her forcefully to him. She squirmed and fought him off for a minute, and he just held her and kissed her everywhere he could reach. Finally, she relaxed. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "Now, please, let's go." He bent down and grabbed her wand, healed her cuts and bruises, and pulled her to his side. "Stay quiet, I'm going to have to fight off Bella to get us out of here. Try to get out without me, but stay by the door, and avoid her at all costs. I may have to kill her, but I wont let her touch you again."

"You can't kill her, Draco, please, I know she's evil and vile, but you can't," she whispered urgently, grasping his hand. He squeezed it slightly before letting go.

"She'll try to kill me, I guarantee it,"he replied. He opened the door a crack, looked out and found Bella twirling madly around the room, blasting everything in her path. He closed the door again. "Now, run when I tell you to." She nodded, he opened the door when Bella wasn't facing it, and whispered "run," and Hermione ran for the door.

Draco sent a curse and hit Bella in the back. She turned, surprised, then sneered. "What's this now? Freeing the Mudblood? How dare you betray us!" She hurled curses at him, and Draco quickly blocked as many as he could. She was fast, but he was younger and more energetic, now that he was hyped up on testosterone and fear. He dodged a few, and did his best to fight back, and finally disarmed Bellatrix, just after he barely escaped her repeated crucios, leaving his robes singed, and his arm bleeding. Nonetheless, he looked away towards the door, to see Hermione cowering slightly by the door. He pushed all of his love for her, his hate for Voldemort and Bella into one, and pointed his wand at her heart.

"Going to kill me ickle Draco, huh? Make your daddy proud, do you think? Traitor" she screamed, then cackled. "You're _weak_. You can't kill an animal. You don't have the _power_."

"I can kill you."

"Oh, I doubt it," she said, sitting up and bracing against the wall, still giggling. Bellatrix groped for her wand in the darkness, and almost reached it until Draco had the sense to kick it across the room.

"Do you?" He rounded on her again. She sneered up at him arrogantly. "I'm the one with the wand, Auntie."

"The wand does not make the wizard, as your sweet Dumbledore used to say. How ridiculously true of you, Draco." She smiled cruelly. "Kill me then, boy, if you think you can. Prove your power. Give in to the evil, your desires. I know you want revenge-"

"SHUT UP," he yelled. "Crucio!" Draco didn't know what made him do it. He didn't want to torture her, he wasn't his father. He just wanted it to be over. But she cackled as she doubled over in pain. He let up on the curse, and didn't dare to look over at Hermione.

"Good, good, very good, Draco. Feel powerful, huh?"

"No."

She laughed again, and clutched her sides. "Kill me then."

"I..."

"You can't do it. _Weak_."

"_Avada Kedavra_," he yelled. Hermione screamed and ran out the door. _No_... He ran after her, shocked by Bellatrix's limp form lying on the ground.

"Hermione!"

"Get away from me!"he

"Hermione, please!" He reached for her the second he got to her, standing in the middle of the road, angry tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I won't hurt you, I promise." She looked at him, but her eyes were unfocused.

"I lied."

He jumped. He never would have thought such words would come out of Hermione Granger's mouth. Shocked, he stood up and whirled around the desk. "What," he all but shouted, trying to keep his voice even.

" You heard me," she parroted, mimicking his earlier words. "I lied."

"I am not questioning my ears, Granger, simply the validity of that statement." He moved closer, and she moved a few steps backwards. His hands were shaking, but her whole body was vibrating with nerves, and she was still crying. He felt like crying himself. "Now, how have you lied to me?"

"I said I was never afraid of anything. I lied. I _am_ afraid of something. I'm afraid of _you_."

"Come here," he moved towards her. This time, she didn't move. "Hermione, please, we have to go. We can't stay here, the ministry will arrive soon."

"Go away."

"No! Dammit, Granger. Stop it, just get over here." She jumped suddenly, realizing his growing anger, as he had ceased using her name. There was only one thing she could do.

"Draco, do you love me?" She looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with pain, both physical and emotional.

Draco blanched at Hermione's question. He shrugged. "I don't know."

_Take my hand I give it to you_

_Now you want me all I am_

Hermione turned away from Draco. She could not look at him like this. Yet his appearance seemed branded into her mind; she could see him under her closed eyelids, try as she might have to block him out. He could sense her discomfort and he wanted only to lift it from her shoulders. She loved him, but he didn't love her. If he couldn't admit it in a time like this, he really didn't. She looked down at her left hand, it was bleeding and dirty from the attack. She hadn't noticed it until she went to put her gloves back on and winced as the fabric touched the cut.

"Granger, give me your hand." She didn't trust him, and was still afraid of him for what he had done.

"No! I will heal it myself when we get back to the castle!"

"The _other_ one, Granger," he replied roughly. Reluctantly, she looked up into his silver eyes, and there she saw so much pain and fear that she almost started crying again. She took a deep breath, and took his hand.

**A/N:** How was that? I hope it was a little better than the last, which I just realized were somewhat dry. Oh well, it's a lot longer anyway. Reviews please!


	4. Four

**Author's Note:** I only own this laptop, my dog, my imagination, and this story. ( Songs for this chapter were "Have Faith In Me" by A Day to Remember and "I Never Told You" by Colbie Caillat)

The minute he had gotten Hermione safely back to the castle, she had run off to their Dormitory as fast as he could have said Quidditch. Once he'd arrived back in their common room, he'd tidied up for a while, hoping she would come out of her room. Nervously, he paced the length of the Afghan rug, re-living the last two hours painfully in his head. It hadn't really hit him until now that Bellatrix was dead; and that he himself had killed her. Now that he had time to ponder this, he knew that everything had changed. Things would never be the same now, and he was the only one to blame for it. It seemed he had betrayed both sides, and now was left side-less. Even worse than that, the only person who'd ever come to truly care for him was now holing up in her room, probably cursing his name into oblivion.

All he could do was wait. Wait for her to forgive him, wait to go home, and wait for the consequences of his actions. Home had always been the one place he didn't want to be, and it would only become more unbearable. His father might not be able to get to him while he was in prison, but he had clearly endangered himself and his mother. She would know by the morning that Bellatrix was dead, and he could only guess her reaction would be negative. Then, there were the other Death Eaters who now knew where his heart had headed. They would be furious, of course. Bellatrix had always been a favorite of the Dark Lord, and even though he probably wouldn't care that she was dead personally, she had been a great asset. In time, he would pay for this.

So, in resignation to the potentially fatal consequences his future held, Draco sat down in front of the failing fire. He watched the flames flickering around the coals, and without a moments hesitation stuck his hand into them. He smiled slightly as the flames licked painlessly at his skin, warming it but not hurting him. But he knew that if he were to throw paper into it, it would surely encompass and destroy it.

On impulse, he stood up quickly and strode across the room to the old writing desk where he'd lain a few letters from home; and under them lay a neatly folded black sweater his father had sent him as a form of encouragement. He sneered in disgust at his father's handwriting on the gift slip attached to the bundle, and carried the letters with it back over to the fire. Already having read the letters, he tossed them unceremoniously into the flames, unemotionally watching them crack and disintegrate into ash. Once there was nothing left but gray soot, Draco grasped the sweater in his hands, holding it tightly for a moment. A single tear escaped his eyes, but he brushed it away furiously; he would not cry over this. "Look father, look what you've forced me to do," he whispered bitterly. "You've tried so hard to turn me into the monster you wished me to be, and now, now I think you've finally succeeded."

He felt the softness of the weave in slowly, for the last time, then threw the sweater, and his hatred, into the fire. "You'll never control my future anymore though," he whispered slowly into the fire's radiant heat,"because I decide what I do from now on."

For awhile, Draco sat there in front of the fire, but when the light failed completely, he lit his wand and headed towards his room. Halfway there, he changed his mind and turned back. Crossing the room as quietly as possible, he arrived silently outside Hermione's door, and stood there, waiting. He strained his ears, listening for even the faintest sounds, but none came. She slept soundly, peacefully, he could only guess.

"Have faith in me, Hermione," he begged, whispering, " and I promise I will find a way to fix this. I know that we can get through this, no matter what has happened. Just give me a chance to prove it to you." With that said, he headed back to bed, finally, and collapsed onto his sheets, fully clothed. He swore that, even if it killed him, he would show her that things weren't the way they seemed; and that, if he did die, well, then he would ensure that at the very least she knew how much he cared for her.

* * *

Hermione was finding it hard to sleep. So she lay flat on her bed, listening to the whoosh of the wind against the windows. But no matter how hard she tried to empty her mind, it proved impossible; there was no escaping the pain and outrage she had begun to bottle up only a few hours ago. Things were becoming far too complicated between her and Draco, and she was fully aware of what consequences might come.

No matter what he might have done, no matter what he _had_ just done, deep down, she knew in her heart that he was not an evil person. She could not dispel the thought that he wasn't entirely innocent of the tragedy earlier, but her own righteous mind could tell he had been sincere in declaring he had not been expecting the attack. If her heart wasn't lying to itself, he cared about her, and was probably suffering in his room at this very moment.

But then, then there was Bellatrix. Hermione wasn't the type of person who ever found killing to be righteous, but on this occasion, she was beginning to doubt her stance. Killing was wrong, there was no way away from that of course, but what Draco had done...well, it had probably saved their own lives. Yet he was an entirely different person now, there was no doubt about that. Maybe it wouldn't be clear from the outside, but on the inside, his soul had split. She was in pain mostly over this change in his soul, for he could never be the same again. No, surely, surely this would change him, maybe not quickly, but eventually, what he had done would seep into his mind, corrupting the goodness within him, the parts of him she had fallen for. As Lupin had said, the first kill makes every one after it somewhat easier, and there was no way of knowing if he'd have the opportunity to do it again.

Hermione sighed in frustration and blinked her tired eyes. Her only hope was that they would forgive each other in the morning. With that, she closed her eyes, turned over, and forced her mind to shut up, and finally fell asleep.

The next day, she resolved to heal the hurt between her and Draco. But although she awoke and dressed early and sat with a book in the chair facing his bedroom, she saw not even the silver top of his all morning. Though she enjoyed her reading, she really couldn't concentrate fully. She was anxious to approach him, to apologize. Having worked out just what she was going to say, she felt prepared. However, she couldn't deny her human needs, and by noon, she was starving. So she set down the book, and left.

Her walk to the Great Hall was uneventful as usual, and she only had to tell one couple to get out of an open classroom and take their activities elsewhere. She sat next to Ginny at the table, and before she could ask why she hadn't been at breakfast, she simply said, "I was studying and packing," and started in on her pot pie. Ginny grinned in amused incredulity.

"You mean you aren't packed yet?" Even Harry looked shocked at that, and Ron left his mouth hanging open in response.

"No, I haven't had the time."

"Well we're leaving tomorrow," Harry reminded her, smiling reassuringly, "I'm sure you'll be ready to go long before we leave tomorrow morning. Did you remind your parents you wouldn't be home?"

"Oh yes, I did remember to do that at least, Harry. They're sending my presents to... the place...and they're going skiing in Switzerland."

"That's nice," said Ginny. "I'm so glad you're coming!"

"Ginny," laughed Hermione, forgetting her sadness for a moment, "I come almost every year."

"Well I know that," Ginny laughed too, brushing the crumbs from her sandwich off her sweater. "But this year, we finally get to sit in on Order meetings, " she finished with a whisper. "And Tonks says she's coming too, so that will be fun, even with Fleur visiting."

"Ooh good, good," replied Hermione. She finished her pie, then gulped her pumpkin juice. "Okay, well I'll see you later, I have to go pack." She took a quick glance around the hall, but when she didn't see Draco anywhere, she nodded at her friends and left, waving them goodbye.

* * *

Draco was keeping himself cooped up in his room for the day; he'd decided the minute he'd woken up. He started packing slowly, doing it the Muggle way, taking up as much time as he could. He was well aware that Hermione was out in the common room, reading, as he'd glanced out the door just as she'd settled herself in the armchair in front of his door. He wasn't coming out to see her, not because he was a coward, but because he had no idea what to say to her. He knew what he wanted her to know, but forming the words would be next to impossible for him.

So there he sat, useless, on the edge of his bed, waiting fora small miracle to occur in the shape of the curly-haired brunette he needed so badly. But she never came to him, so as the light outside his window faded to darkness, he did the only thing he thought would catch her attention. In a fit of rage, he started throwing things from his shelves, making as many things he could find shatter and explode. He cringed each time a glass knickknack shattered in front of him, but could not stop himself. Soon he was throwing books at the glass on the floor, ripping the curtains from the windows with all his strength, enjoying to tearing of the fabric in his hands. He didn't even realize he'd been cutting himself on the glass as he'd desecrated his room. Draco wasn't even aware he'd been making any noise until he felt blood on his hands and small pains creeping along his palms. Tears began to fall down his face just as he heard a scream and the sounds of someone throwing themselves against his door.

"Draco! Draco what are you doing," came Hermione's terrified voice through the door.

But he couldn't answer her like this. He was too consumed with pain and rage. So he threw his chair at the door, and it crashed with enough force to have her scream and move away from the door. Then he took to tearing apart his bed as she returned to the door, banging on it. He could just hear her over the crashes and tearing of his belongings, shouting at him and trying to unlock the door and pry it open. Draco didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her to just blast it open, but he supposed she was going to try everything else first.

At least he had gotten through to her. At least this showed that she still cared about him, no matter what it was she felt was wrong with him. Finally, he crumpled quietly to the floor, bruised and bleeding, but overall, quite calm and quiet. Hermione had stopped screaming at the top of her lungs, and finally she said, "reducto," and the door blasted open. She rushed over to him and waved her wand over him, healing him, then pulled him into her arms, kneeling on the glass just to hold him. "I'm sorry," she said over and over, her tears wetting what was left of his shirt, and he clutched her to him, not wanting to ever let her go.

"No, don't you be sorry. This is my fault. I'm the one who should be sorry." He lifted her up off the floor and onto his lap, and leaned back against the backboard of his bed, and kissed her on the forehead.

"Okay, well we should get your room in order before we talk. Reparo!" She waved her wand around the room, and Draco helped too, and soon the room was back to its original state. Then they curled up on the bed together, looking each other in the eyes.

"I went crazy without you," Draco began, stroking her hair, "and I wish I hadn't had to do all this to get you to look at me again."

"You didn't have to. You could have just spoken to me. I worried all day long."

"Then stay with me tonight. Before you leave me tomorrow, I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I'll even help you pack." He was counting on her saying yes, because if she didn't, he would be more miserable than he already expected to be during break.

"Okay."

With that, he pulled her to him, and leaned in for a kiss.

* * *

Hermione lay on her bed, miserable. She couldn't sleep, or else she'd dream about him. And every minute she was awake, she found something to remind herself of Draco. This holiday was going to be unbearable, but she couldn't bring herself to give into her desire to hear from him. Besides, she didn't know how dangerous it could be for them if she tried to send him a letter. Harry and Ron would recognize his eagle owl anywhere, and she doubted Harry would like her asking to borrow his owl in the first place. Lately, he seemed to have finally agreed that safety of everyone in the Order and within their families was far more important than risking detection for the sake of information.

Finally deciding there was no point lying there, Hermione got up and put on her robe. Quietly, she crept out of her room, shutting the door behind her. Grimmauld Place was quiet save for the sounds of her friends and their family sleeping in the adjacent rooms. As she passed Harry's room, she poked her head in, wondering absently if he was sleeping well for one. She found him curled around a small form with red hair, and smiled, leaving he and Ginny to rest. Although she figured Mrs. Weasley would not have approved of them sharing a bed, Hermione's heart went out two her two friends, so she promised herself she would say nothing about it.

Downstairs, she found a light flickering in the kitchen, and upon walking in she found Mrs. Weasley sitting at the edge of the table, a huge mug of hot chocolate steaming before her. She did not look up as Hermione sat silently next to her. "Trouble sleeping, dear," she asked, smiling in her motherly way. Hermione sighed and wrapped an arm around the woman who was like a second mother to her.

"Mmhmm, there's too much I have to worry about I guess. Are you okay," Hermione replied, noticing for the first time the tears trailing slowly down the older woman's face. Mrs. Weasly choked back a sob, and smiled again, wrapping her arm around Hermione and squeezing a little.

"Oh don't worry about me dear. I'm a mother; it's in my nature to worry," Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and handed the mug that appeared to Hermione, who took the chocolate gratefully. "Now, tell me what's on your mind."

"Well," Hermione began, but found she was lost for an explanation. "I'm a little sad to be away from my parents...and others who are important to me. I worry they might not be safe. I'm probably silly to be so trivial." She took a long drink of her chocolate to hide her sudden need to cry.

"Nonsense, dear, you're not silly. And I might just have the thing for you!"

She got up suddenly, went across the room, "where did I put it, oh, yes, there it is," she muttered absently, then procured a small, wizened mirror and handed it to Hermione, who looked puzzeled. "This was given to me by my mother. You can look into it at any time and find anyone, no matter where they are. All you have to do is say who you want to see. I used to look for Arthur when I was away from him for long periods of time, I could always see that he was just fine. Why don't you go up to your room and give it a try?"

"Oh, thank you so much Mrs. Weasley! I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done with it, oh, and thanks for the chocolate too!" Mrs. Weasley laughed and gave her a hug, and with that Hermione went quickly back up to her room. Once there, she shut and locked her door for privacy, and perched herself on the bed.

Hermione stared into the mirror for a moment, then said as clearly as possible, "Show me Draco Malfoy," then looked away, in case anything odd happened.

Nothing sparked or made any noise, so she looked straight into the mirror, and let out a blood-curdling scream.

**A/N:** Ta-da! Reviews anyone?_  
_


	5. Five

**Author's Note: **I own nothing but the idea. P.S: Sorry this took so long to put up, it was hard to write, since this chapter is very dark. (Inspirations: "You Fight Me, " by Breaking Benjamin and "You Gave Me a Promise" by Fireflight).

Draco lay sprawled on the ground, his face crushed against the cold stone floor, his arms and legs lay out unnaturally. He could not think clearly through the blinding pain that racked his body; could not remember where he was or why. It seemed to take hours for the pain to recede, and maybe he had already been lying there for hours when he realized he could move again. Slowly, he pulled himself off the floor, but he did not make it far. Instead he slumped against the cold wall of what he now recognized as part of his own house. Though he had never before been in the dungeon that lay beneath his family's mansion, he had been told enough about it to gather his whereabouts based solely on the floor's stone pattern and the wall's smooth feeling against his palm.

He felt weak as his body tried to heal itself, and he could not find his wand in the dim lighting. It would be futile to scream for help; he doubted very much his mother could hear him, and the idea of his father coming back down to find him slightly more than alive was far from appealing. He was sure Luscious had meant to beat him to death last night, but what was appalling was that he hadn't just stopped with his magic. No, for the second time in his life, Lucious Malfoy had physically beaten his son after he had lost patience with torture. Draco knew he should have screamed through his punishment, maybe then Lucious would have stopped. But after so many years of being crucioed, the curse had begun to lose its effect, and with the constant onslaught of dark knowledge and war, Draco knew how to withstand it. Yes, the lessons he'd been taught from a young age had been his downfall in the fight against his father.

Memory of the night before came back to him in flashes, and only worsened the growing throbbing in his head. He had arrived at the manor barely three days ago, and had found no one home. So he had spent his time hidden in his room, awaiting his punishment. Draco did not normally consider himself a coward, no matter what society said, but circumstances out of his control had forced him to take cowardly actions. Considering the pain he was in now, he did not regret hiding from his father. But the moment Lucious had come, his presence could be felt throughout the house, and it was clear to Draco that he knew very well where he was. Laying his head back down on the smooth floor, he remembered their first interaction.

**Draco lay flat as possible on the carpet beneath his bed, and waited. He had heard his father's enraged shouts in the north wing of the mansion and knew he had only about five minutes before he was caught. So he counted the minutes, each second, he was growing more anxious. He may have been able to stand up to Bellatrix, but his father was a very different story. His only hope was to take his punishment as best he could and focus on his return to Hogwarts...and to Hermione.**

**Suddenly, his bedroom doors flew from their hinges and splintered from the blast of his father's unspoken spell. Draco flattened himself further, hoping against hope that the long bed spread was enough to hide him for just a few more minutes. He reached as quietly as possible into his pant pocket and patted the picture of Hermione he always kept there, and whispered, "soon," while his father rushed around the room, tearing it apart.**

**"DRACO," he bellowed, smashing windows and ripping at the bedspread. "I know you're in here, boy! Show yourself you coward!"**

**Then with a deafening sound, his bed was blasted from the ground and Draco was thrown roughly against the wall. His father grabbed him mercilessly as he slumped in dizzying pain, and dragged him from the room. He could no longer hear the words his father was shouting at him; his ears were filled with a rushing sound, his own screams drowned out by the roaring surrounding him. He didn't recall how long it took to get down to the dungeons, but he recalled all too clearly the first blazing pain that came with the first of many crucios. Unable to answer the unending questions, the attacks came relentlessly, but eventually his mind cleared; separated itself from the pain, and he thought clearly. Draco was startlingly aware of his body bending and twisting under the curses, but he felt removed from the physical onslaught. **

**Until his father threw him against the floor and made contact with his fist, Draco had made no effort to defend himself. His wand had flung from his hand uselessly long ago now, and he could only put his arms in front of his face to try and block as much as he could. Somewhere during the beating, he found his strength, and fought back, but only momentarily held his way. Not long after he had made contact with the soft fabric of his father's waist coat, he felt the air rush from his lungs and everything went silently black.**

* * *

His father came back twice that night. The first time, he came to drag information from him. He had been too weak to resist the veritaserum that was forced down his throat, and was in no way rewarded for admitting murdering Bellatrix, but thankfully, no questions were asked about Hermione that put her in any immediate danger. The second, Draco guessed, was to seal in the message his father had all but written in his blood; that he was never to screw up again or else he would sleep permanently.

He remained crumpled on the floor, cold but alive, and time seemed intangible. He was aware of pain, being thirsty, and that his bones were broken and needed fixing. He felt blood dripping from his wounds, but he could not focus his eyes to look at them, felt it drying on his skin and clothes in large reddish brown patches. His breathing was ragged, worsened by the position he could hardly move from, and when he turned to the side to breathe easier, the air that rushed into his lungs was in no way comforting. Instead it was cold as ice as it rushed down his raw throat, and he heard himself cry out in pain.

Soon he felt his consciousness slipping into the edges of blackness, and he fought to stay awake. Hermione's face swam in front of his eyes, the only thing he could see, and although she seemed really in front of him, he could not tell what was real and imaginary. His mind must have been addled by the repeated blows, and he wondered if she was okay wherever she was. He was sure she had to be, with her friends, more importantly, with the Order, she was in safe hands. He only wished they were his hands.

In the hours he endured, it was clear to Draco that he was near death. Even if by some stroke of luck he managed to survive this, he knew he had only one option. He was too much of a danger to return to Hogwarts for long, and he would have to go on the run. He would relay all the information he possessed to the Order, tell Hermione that he never loved her, then never return. It would be hard to watch the pain on her face as he lied to protect her, but lying had always come easily to him. He would never forget her, but he had to ensure she forgot him. She was too important to suffer the pain he would force himself to have. His heart deserved breaking, yes, Draco knew this to be true. But he could not let her attempt to survive his disappearance on her own. If she hated him after this, then she would be better off.

Before he once more caved to the darkness, his resolve was made.

* * *

Hermione could not look away from the scene in front of her. Draco's body lay broken and bleeding on a stone floor, he was clearly nearing death. There was no time to wait, she decided, she would have to leave immediately, and go off to find him on her own. But she was not so lucky; having forgotten to stifle her terror, she had awoken the the other inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. Doors slammed on the floor above, and she could hear several sets of feet running the length of the hallway. instinctively, she grabbed her wand off the bedside table and her coat and backpack. As she began stuffing her bag with every useful thing she could find quickly, she could clearly hear Harry and Ron's voices closing in on her room.

She moved back towards the window to make escape easier, if she could even manage it, she had a hope. But moments later, and Harry and Ron were barging through the door, their expressions alarmed and grave. Harry was immediately at her side, while Ron stood warily near the door. Shortly after, the rest of the Weasley family crowded inside, including Lupin. Everyone's wands were out, but they lowered slowly, upon their inability to see any close danger.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry Harry, everyone," replied Hermione, looking around the room at the various sleepy faces staring back at her," but something's come up. I must go; someone dear to me is in poor health. I have to go help them."

"Let someone come with you then, Hermione dear. Don't just rush off like this!" Mrs. Weasley answered first, heading to the bed to retrieve the mirror. Hermione shook her head.

"I do not require your assistance. I simply have to go home. Its fine. I'm sorry I screamed; I was just so...so shocked." Her voice shook a little at the end, but she retained her confident, calm stance. She hugged Harry when he reached for her, basking in the comfort of her best friend's embrace. Ron moved forward in a sudden decision, and hugged her tightly.

"I don't know what you're doing, Hermione, but...uh...good luck." Hermione couldn't help but smile back reassuringly.

"Let us know immediately if anything is really wrong, please, wont you Hermione? I don't like this, but I am not your father; I can't tell you not to go."

"I will," she said and hugged the old man.

"You should pack a little better than that, dear," tittered Mrs. Weasley nervously, brushing past her husband and reaching for Hermione's napsack. "Here, let me give you some food and a few first aide things. And for goodness sakes put on your mittens; its cold tonight!"

Hermione smiled a little, and once her bag was filled to the brim with provisions and protective objects, she led the way down the stairs and to the front door. After bidding everyone goodbye, she was out into the cold night air. With a crack she Apparated from Grimmauld Place in search of the man that held her heart.

* * *

Draco awoke from the darkness to find himself fully able to move. After a quick assessment of his wounds, and a botched healing spell as he didn't know how much time he had to get back upstairs, he stood up and started feeling around the floor to find his wand. Soon, it became apparent that he would never find it in the dim light, so he decided to try a quick spell. "Accio wand," he said into the candlelight. A few minutes later_, _a whooshing sound announced the coming of his wand. He caught it deftly as soon as it reached him, and whispered a quick "lumos," before he headed for the stairs to the main wings of the mansion.

He walked carefully and silently, counting his breathes and marking his painful limps. He was lucky to be in this good shape after the horrible events he'd just survived, so he was counting on further miracle work occurring to keep him from his father's awareness. Once he reached the basement door that opened to the landing, he hesitated on the first step, and carefully pressed his ear to the door, listening intently. He could hear bustling in the kitchen; he assumed the house elves were preparing for lunch, and just as he was about to open the door and sneak upstairs, he choked back a breath; his father was coming down the hall.

Lucious was conversing swiftly with another man, though Draco did not recognize the stranger's voice. Minutes later, Lucious and his guest were gone from the hall, and Draco opened the door a crack to have a look around. Upon seeing no one but a small elf who had the good grace to bid him ignorance, he crept across the landing and bolted silently to the staircase. As he ascended the many stairs to his room, Draco cursed his father under his breath. If it weren't for the fact Lucious was gifted with good hearing and only two floors below him, Draco would have gladly Apparated to his room. But it was much more prudent to creep around the house; his father was less likely to be roused by the creak of floorboards or slight footfalls.

* * *

Hermione did her best to keep a straight face. She had honestly no idea what she was going to do when she did find Draco, but by the grace of the gods, she would find him She had apparated as close to the manor as she thought was safe, and set off the rest of the way on foot. It seemed obvious to her that the Malfoys would never expect anyone to try to access the manor on foot, so there were probably nothing more than a few anit-Muggle spells. Not that any Muggle; smart or otherwise, would ever venture up to the manor. They would naturally be in wonder at it, but as most Muggles think, they would assume there was high security. Certainly no thief would ever consider scaling its high stone walls.

All-in-all, although she knew she was in danger, and though she feared what she would find inside, Hermione reminded herself that she was Hermione Jean Granger, proud member of the Gryffindor house, and she was no coward. With her wand out and sheathed in her black cloak, she marched right up to Malfoy Manor and started walking across the large rolling lawn. Nothing happened. Wary of foul play, she sidestepped slowly, watching all around her, and eliminated every step she took to avoid detection, but still nothing happened. She wondered where she should head first, then whether or not it was possible to apparate inside the Manor. Hesitating next to a large oak tree nearest to the manor, Hermione peered into the large windows in front of her. She was surprised to see Lucious Malfoy pacing his study; she wouldn't have thought she'd find him home, so she crept down under the window ledge and went around the north side of the Manor.

From all that she remembered Draco telling her, his bedroom was on the west side of the manor, nearest the forest, so she decided that would be her direction. As she neared the west wing, she heard raised voices and the sound of dishes breaking. Of course, he had to be near the kitchen. She risked a glance through the window to see a few house elves quarreling over a large pot. There was a door to her left, so she snuck over to it, praying that it was the secret passage upstairs that Draco had told her about. Hermione tried the lock, and with her luck, it proved to only need Alohomora to be opened.

Silently, she went through the door and entered into a cramped, dark hall that immediately opened up to a very steep staircase. It seemed that the passage had magically been squeezed between the walls, because as she stumbled forward slowly, she could hear maids cleaning and other inhabitants of the mansion conversing. As she reached the top, she began to get her vision back as small specs of light began to filter through from an unknown source. If this was indeed the right passage, she would end up in Draco's wardrobe, so when the stairs reached their end, she pointed her wand in front of her for protection and opened the door in front of her.

* * *

Once he was positive that he wouldn't be caught, Draco scaled the stairs in front of him, and ran the length of the hallway that stretched out in front of him. At the end, he opened the double doors to his room and hastily closed them behind him as soon as he was safely inside. He hastily cast a silencing spell on the room and grabbed his suitcase from under his bed. He went to his wardrobe_, _but just as he was about to open the filigree door, he hesitated; he was sure he'd heard rustling. Pulling out his wand, he immediately had a curse on his mind and opened the door abruptly.

He couldn't believe his eyes, for in front of him stood a woman dressed in black with wildly curled hair. Immediately, he lowered his wand and rushed inside, pulling her into his arms to make sure she was real. "Hermione," he breathed. "Hermione are you insane?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss.

**A/N:** I know, lackluster ending, I know. I kind of regret the fact that this is mostly Draco, but he seems to be more of a main character in this situation since he is the one suffering. Hermione just doesn't have a lot to do yet. Reviews please. _  
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	6. Six

**Author's Note: **I don't own Harry Potter. ( Inspiration: "When Tomorrow Comes" by Pillar)

* * *

Draco grimaced after their crushing embrace. "I can't believe you're here! Its so dangerous..."

"I know. But Draco, what happened? What did he do to you," she asked as her hands reached up to his face and traced the new scar on his lip. He shuddered at the memory, and moved away from her slightly, taking her hand in his to stop its progression across his face.

"Not now," he whispered, "we need to get out of here."

"How?" She looked up at his silver eyes as his met her warmer brown ones in the low light. "Can we apparate without anyone knowing?"

"Technically...no...they'll know. But it'll be worth it. You'll have to apparate us out of here, your wand isn't connected to to the Manor, so they won't catch us. Just pick somewhere safe."

Hermione swallowed hard, and nodded. Thinking for a moment, she wrapped her arms around Draco's waist and held him tightly. He looked around the closet, then as if upon impulse, moved out of her grasp and ran out. Quickly, he grabbed his suitcase and came back to her, holding both the suitcase and Hermione's waist securely. With a crack, they were gone.

They reappeared on a dirty street in London. Draco looked around him, taking in his surroundings and focused on the two houses in front of him. Distinctly Muggle, they imposed no threat to their safety, but he could feel a hint of magic in the air. He mused on that for a moment as Hermione moved away from him and walked towards the space between the two houses. She focused her eyes on the sliver of space, muttering to herself. He looked down at his arms, and upon noticing Hermione was no longer in them, freaked out. Looking back towards the houses he caught sight of her tangled hair through the falling snow. She gestured for him to follow her, and although a shiver was running up his spine telling him to grab her and run, he obeyed.

As soon as he reached her, he ended up backing away, ready to pull her away with him, but he knew better than to underestimate her prowess. After all, her wand was out, so he took his out as well, just in case. Before he knew it, a house has begun to emerge from between the dark homes on each side of it. Dirty and dark looking, only flickers of candlelight could be seen emmenating from its interior. Draco froze."Grimmauld Place," he whispered, and he turned to look at Hermione, unsure of what she was up to. He could not be here, this was not safe. Hermione started walking up the front steps but Draco grabbed her hand, stopping her.

"I can't be here. How would you ever explain this away?"

"What do you mean? You're safe here. The Order can help you," she hissed back, trying to keep her voice down.

"The Order? Do you even know what I am? I'm wanted by these people, they'll arrest me!"

Hermione tried to shake her hand free, but Draco would not give it back, not now. He had no where to go, and she was leading him into a trap for his kind. They'd never accept him, and certainly they would never understand. He highly doubted that she had even told them she was leaving when she'd come to get him, and knew for a fact their relationship was a secret. All in all, this was a horrible idea. He would not put her in further danger, and he knew that if he took one step indoors, he would do just that. Just being with him on the doorstep was a huge risk. Outside, they had no protection, and by now his father was bound to be aware that he was missing, and Death Eaters were assuredly searching for him.

So he clutched her hand in his, and stood childishly at the very entrance of Order headquarters. For good measure, he jutted out his lower lip and stared her down defiantly. This pout probably wouldn't get him anywhere, but at least he could try. Of course, Hermione rolled her eyes and made a small noise of annoyance. "Just come on," she demanded, yanking at him, but he stood still, refusing to budge. "Are you really going to be so stubborn?"

"Yes, I am." Her eyes rolled again in response.

"You're being really childish. Please come on?" When he shook his head, she sighed. "Or at least let me go."

"No. You're not going anywhere without me."

"Then come with me for Merlin's sake, we're getting nowhere standing here like this. For goodness sake, we're exposing ourselves!"

Draco rolled his eyes this time, and sighed. He knew she was right. "I don't like this, at all," he said through his teeth, but he turned and faced the door in front of them. He let go of her hand. "Lead the way then," he spat, gesturing forward. Hermione raised her eyebrows, and opened the door.

* * *

Having Draco Malfoy staying at Order Headquarters was not turning out very well. No one asked questions about his presence, but it was clearly written on everyone's face that they did not like this new development. Harry was particularly sour about it, but kept away from Draco as much as he could, as though Draco was the threat. In truth, maybe he was, but Harry was the one who was more likely to get rankled and cause a fight to break out. The Weasley family was decidedly neutral about the whole situation, but acted overall with unease at meals. As if Draco were to take a knife to them. Hermione was beginning to relax about the situation though, as the days passed, but she kept a watchful eye on Draco at all times.

He seemed stressed the whole time, for his part, and strove to stay locked away in his room or in the library, except for at meals. Even then, he avoided everyone like the plague, as though he was more afraid of them than they were of him. It concerned Hermione that he wasn't eating enough, as he would eat as quickly as possible, and once he was done, he would cast her furtive glances across the table until she was so annoyed that she would finish early and accompany him elsewhere. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be insulted, as he was the only one to never ask for seconds of her delicious meals, and looked worried and hurt every time he sat a meal. Hermione tried to assure her that it was not the cooking that was deterring him, that it was the company, but that only seemed to worry her more.

Soon, he stopped even coming down to meals, and hardly would speak to anyone. He didn't much speak to Hermione either, except when she cornered him, or he felt suspicious of something. Mostly he watched her like a hawk, and took to carrying himself with a nervous, distrustful expression. She tried to ask him about it, but got nothing more than a few curt words about wanting to leave. At that, she pretended to drop the subject, and attempted to make conversation about more positive things. That hardly worked much better, and as the break reached Christmas Eve, Hermione dearly missed the Draco she had fallen in love with, because he was no where to be found. She had no idea where to begin to bring him back, and found herself trapped in silent misery. He was so close to her, but extremely far away. She direly hoped things would change sooner rather than later.

* * *

Draco was going crazy at Grimmauld Place. He did not belong there, and it was painfully obvious. Hiding seemed to be the most obvious cure, but he felt bad doing it. He was acting like the snivelly little snake all the damn lions around him already thought he was, and he was ashamed of it. In truth, he had the strangest urge to terrorize them, but the second the mother weasel set down a steaming bowl of soup and bread in front of him, he couldn't think to do it. Her food was delicious, and he felt guilty eating it. He had changed sides, but not officially, and he was positive they had no idea what in merlin's name he was doing in that house. Potter stared him down every chance he got, as if by staring at him he could penetrate the far reaches of his soul or something, and it began to irritate the blazes out of him. He very much wished to pound his scrawny face into the ground, but for Hermione's sake, he wouldn't do it.

The she-weasel, or, Ginny as she was called, had taken interest to him the minute he stepped through the dreaded doors. It was hard to avoid her because she followed him everywhere that she could, and hounded Hermione incessantly. Which was really a shame, because, as he dully pointed out one very cold evening, they had not had a proper snog session in ages, and he was getting restless in the damn house. His excuse for complaining was that they now had plenty of time to waste, as it was vacation, and since they were supposedly very safe, there had never been a better time. The flame-haired girl had fallen out of her seat, bearing the most scandalized expression he had ever seen.

Hermione, however, dropped her book, and simply stared at him, biting her lip. She faltered a little on her feet as she walked very slowly over to him, her eyes never leaving his. Draco let the smirk fall from his face, as he realized too late that they were not alone, and looked down in embarrassment. He didn't know what to do. If he admitted it, allowed their relationship be outed, all hell would surely break loose. But if he played it off as a jerk-faced joke, he wouldn't look very nice in Hermione's opinion and would probably piss the she-weasel off. So, he chose to say nothing, and sat there, waiting for Hermione to audibly react.

She didn't say a word, however, and turned slightly to face the girl who was staring at her with eyes the size of saucers. They stared long and hard, until the she-weasel nodded and got up. "I don't know what it is that's going on between you two, and I'm not sure I want to, but I wont tell anyone what I heard," she said to them both, then she rounded on Draco, who drew himself to his feet. "If you do anything...anything at all wrong, I swear I will hex you into oblivion. I promise you don't want to make me angry. So you better behave yourself. Don't cross the line." With that, she got up and left them, awkwardly standing there, not looking at each other.

Draco moved first, and walked up behind Hermione, took her small waist into his arms and held her gently but firmly. "Are you mad at me," he asked quietly.

"No," she murmured, leaning back into his arms. " I just wish this was easier. You've been so cold to me lately."

He wouldn't say the words, but he was sorry. "I know," he replied lamely. "I just don't like it here. I know I haven't been nice about it. I just feel like we really shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here, at any rate."

"You're safe here, and I want you here. So yes, you should be. We'll be back at Hogwarts before you know it, anyway."

"You're going to have to choose one of these days," he replied, ignoring her. "We can't keep this up much longer. You know I'm towing the line."

"I know."

"And you wont support my decisions either way, even if I give up and join you, you know it would be a death wish for me. So I can't."

"Lets not talk about this now," she replied, turning around in his embrace. She placed a small hand on his cheek, and rubbed it reassuringly. Draco groaned slightly, annoyed with her. "Lets just go upstairs," she continued, now taking his hand and leading him up the rickety stairs. Draco wouldn't be satisfied by this conversation, as he knew, in time, that this had to be sorted out. She would have to choose his side, or they would have to go seperate ways. He could hardly bear that idea, but he couldn't imagine them running away; she would never want that. So, he let it go for the time being.

* * *

Hermione hated dodging conversations with Draco, but she wasn't stupid, and knew it would not be wise to pursue a long discussion about the future while living in such close proximity to the Order. They were of course, well aware of his standing in the Dark Army, but she held fast to the hopes that they trusted him at least as much as she did. Mr. Weasley had already told her that they would welcome him to the circle at any time he wished, and she felt confident that in time, Draco would find a way to extricate himself from his father's grasp. Or at least she told herself that she was that confident.

The sun was waning below the roof tops as Hermione led Draco up the stairs, taking care to move stealthily in the low-light. She did not want them to be caught by anyone, especially with the way their hands were interwoven. Draco moved very closely behind her, close enough that she swore she could smell his aftershave. Maybe she was just acutely aware of it after having spent so much time wrapped in his embrace. She was being very daring, leading him to her room like this, and she could sense the tension running through him as it collected in his hand and he squeezed hers rather tightly. It surprised her that he hadn't attempted to make any sort of quip about what they might be doing within the confines of the room before him, but she supposed his whole demeanor was waning in response to his presence at Grimmauld Place. If only they were back at the castle.

For her part, Hermione had no trouble with the situation, even though nervous tremors began crawling their way up her spine as she opened her bedroom door and he followed her inside. She turned to meet his gaze, then blushed. He cocked an eyebrow and his easy smirk began to show at the corners of his mouth. He was restraining himself, but oh how she needed him to kill the quiet. "So," she breathed, trailing off quietly, aware of how awkward she was making this. "Um..."

"How amazing. Hermione Granger, wordless? I would never have thought I'd live to see the day," He chuckled quietly, and Hermione smiled as she smacked him gently on the arm. She went to speak again but he moved in close, much too close, and she forgot what she was going to say. Was it important? She couldn't remember for the life of her, and she struggled to recall her plan as he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her forward. "What is it, love?"

"I just..." she began, but suddenly she changed course. "Kiss me."

Draco now raised both eyebrows, but nevertheless, leaned in. She met him halfway. Maybe this discussion could wait, because right now, she was well aware he needed this just as much as she did. So, for the time being, she let things go, forgot their problems,and tried to memorize this moment so she could lock it away for when she was lonely.

**A/N: **I know it's a shorter chapter than usual. I apologize. But I wanted to finally update. Reviews? I promise I will be updating again soon!


	7. Seven

Author's Note: I own nothing. (Inspiration:_Paralyzed_ by The Used)  
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* * *

The damn woman was doing it again. Confusing him so that he no idea what was going on within the confines of her diabolical little head. It was scary enough living at Grimmauld Place, having everyone staring daggers at the back of his every time he left a room, but this was going to throw his misery over the edge. With his fingers tangled in Hermione's hair, he couldn't think straight, could hardly think at all, and with the way her hands were encircling him and trailing down his neck he was sure she was going a little insane. For most of the time they'd been there, he had been damn sure nothing like this would happen.

But there they were, wrapped up in each other, moving dangerously close to the bed, in the middle of her bedroom with the door left slightly open. He cursed himself for not closing it properly, because, despite popular belief, Draco was not an idiot, and he knew that it didn't matter what time of night it was, if Hermione's door was open, anything was fair game. Any minute now, Draco was sure Potter or one of the Weasels would come bursting in and all hell would break lose.

So, with that thought, Draco pushed Hermione away without the least amount of gentleness. He hugged her briefly, patted her head, and made for the door.

"Draco,"she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Draco bit his lip, filled with dread, and slowly turned around to look at her. Her eyes were wide, shining with the hurt he'd just inflicted upon her.

"Don't," he said, walking back to her, "don't start crying...don't," he insisted, but it was too late. She grabbed his sweater and clutched it to her. He had to admit he liked the way it felt to have her clutch at him in this way, then dismissed the thought, sickened by himself. She was hurting, it was his fault, and he was getting some satisfaction out of it. He was a horrible person. So he forced himself not to allow himself to curve into her arms, and instead held himself straight as a beam, leaning slightly away from her.

"I don't understand you Draco, I don't understand you at all. One minute you..want me, and the next...and the next you just...you push me away," she sobbed, trying to pull her closer. Draco had never been good with dealing with crying women, had never spent much time around them. His mother used to cry when he was younger, but she was a Malfoy, and she'd go into her room to do it. He didn't think his father had ever once comforted her. And Draco knew he was making the same mistake now. He didn't know what to do with Hermione, as he wasn't used to someone showing so much emotion in front of him. At least, any emotion besides of anger.

At the same time, he felt obligated to do something, anything to stop her. "I know," he replied lamely, and mentally slapped himself. Her only response was a sniffle and a sob, so he attempted to press on, trying to find the words. "I don't think you ever will."

"Because you never let me in," she exclaimed, sounding outraged. Her voice, though rough from her crying, was louder than he had expected it to be.

"I know," he said again, and she pulled away. Draco let his eyes fall to the ground, unable to look anywhere in front of him. She sank onto her bed and he heard her pat the space next to him. He hesitated, not sure if he should sit or just leave. The Malfoy in him told him to leave, and never come back. His heart, on the other hand, tugged at him, and pushed him to sit next to her. So, slowly he sat down next to her, took her hand, and interlaced their fingers. "I'm sorry. Its just...complicated."

"Ha," she laughed, spitefully. "It doesn't have to be."

"Yes it does," he insisted. "You know this day would come," he said, a lump forming in his throat."

"What day? The day you act more like a moron than usual?" The sad thing was, she wasn't joking. This was no laughing matter anyway, and Draco hated it when she would dodge things. She was a smart witch, and by the way more tears were starting to trickle down her cheeks, he knew she was just trying to feign curiosity. She knew exactly what he was talking about, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

* * *

Hermione didn't want to wake up the next morning, but when Ginny came into her room, frantic to wake her, Hermione found she had no choice. She hadn't ever had the bravery she would have needed to kill herself, but today, she wished her courage hadn't betrayed her and forced her to keep waking up. At first, she couldn't understand a word Ginny said or see a thing in front of her, but upon feeling her swollen eyes, she recognized that she'd cried so much that her eyes were sticky and mostly closed. She groped around for her wand and once she found it, she waved it in front of her face. Immediately, her sight was restored, and she peered into Ginny's flushed face.

"He's gone," she said, and Ginny nodded seriously. "He left."

"Not a surprise," Ron said from the doorway.

"The problem is that he knows our headquarters and how to get in, and we aren't allowed to stay here any longer."

"He wont tell anyone," Hermione said, getting up.

"'Mione, we don't know that."

"I do, Ron, he left," she paused and swallowed, trying to keep herself together, "to protect us. He knew he wasn't welcome here, so he left."

Ron and Ginny left, totally unconvinced, and Hermione got dressed, trying to avoid thinking about the night before. But she just couldn't get his words out of her head. She knew he was lying by the look in his eyes, but the worlds still felt like a knife to her heart. _I don't love you, I don't love you, I don't love you_, the words reverberated and ran circles in her mind as she made her way down to breakfast, and as she sat at the long , wooden table, she could feel everyone's eyes on her. She had a sickening feeling that they all knew what had happened, but thankfully, no one brought the subject of Draco's desertion up the whole morning.

As they packed to leave for the Burrow, Hermione avoided Harry and Mrs. Weasley at all costs. Harry had been watching her so closely all day that by dinner, Hermione decided she would rather go hungry than let him stare at her eating her stew. Worse than that, Mrs. Weasley had expressed her concern for Draco's safety, and Hermione had just barely dodged the conversation that very nearly ensued. She wanted nothing more than to forget the last few months and start over, but what she dreaded most was the healing process. She wouldn't be able to to simply forget everything that had ever happened, and secretly, she didn't want to.

And so it was with a heavy heart that she gathered her things, took hold of Ron's hand firmly, and took a port key to the Burrow.

* * *

Draco felt like excrement. Actually, he felt worse than that. Far below crap, if he wanted to be honest. But he thought he was doing the right thing. "Yeah, because leaving the girl you love to get killed is the right thing," he muttered to himself as he sat at a bar stool in the darkest part of a Muggle bar. The barman didn't believe he was of age, so he wouldn't give him more than water to drink, but Draco didn't mind. He just wanted the solitude. He figured no one, good or evil, would find him here, so he basked in the heat of the room and quiet din of an early morning. He supposed he wouldn't be returning to school, but the problem was, that he knew it was the safest place for him at this moment. Nothing and no one could penetrate Hogwarts, and he felt too insignificant for his father's cronies to look for. He was torn between staying far away from anyone in the wizarding world and simply going back to school like the dutiful student he was.

For awhile, he contemplated how he'd gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He was very much out in the open, and he was pretty sure that by now, his father knew about it. _That_, he thought, _I can deal with. Father won't be so keen to go sniveling around in Muggle London looking for me, so for now, I'm safe_. Even though these thoughts comforted him and assured his temporary safety, he couldn't help but think back to the Order. He doubted they would come looking for him unless they were all nursing substantial death wishes, but it made him uncomfortable to realize that this time, neither would Hermione.

His whole life had changed so quickly that he'd hardly had time to take it all in. About all he knew was that one day he'd been poking fun at Granger all evening long and the next, he wad calling her Hermione and all he wanted to do was have her in his arms. Maybe he'd always had a secret soft spot for the pretty little thing, just maybe. Then, all of a sudden, they were using first names comfortably, something which had used to be extremely odd. Yet it became second nature. Unfortunately for Draco, he was fully and completely in love with her and because he was unable to handle it, he'd just pushed her away. He didn't know what possessed him to strike out on his own, but because he was fully aware he was stubborn, he was holding to his decision even if it killed him. She meant more to him than his own life, and really, he was shocked at how much a schmuck he'd become. He couldn't live without her, but at the same time, he couldn't risk living with her any longer. Draco secretly wished Hermione hadn't believed him when he'd told her he didn't love her, but he had done such a good job of lying he was sure that there'd been no doubt in her mind. He almost wanted her to hurt him, to force him to take the words he'd so cruelly spat out at her, but she hadn't done a thing but nod. She just let him leave.

Of course, if she'd said the same things, he wouldn't have been able to look at her. He probably would have broken something, many things, maybe grabbed her and held on for dear life.

Sipping his lukewarm water, he stole a glance around him, and suddenly was aware that he might be being watched. He couldn't risk any magic in front of the Muggles, who were already giving him distrustful looks, but he pulled his wand out just to feel safer. Looking past his left shoulder, indeed it seemed a shadowy figure sitting by a window was watching him intently. Draco did not know if he should risk leaving now, while there was a lull in traffic in and out of the bar, or if he should wait for the bar to grow busier and sneak out in a crowd of people. He felt older, tired, but more sure of himself. He was dangerous now, and as he got up and slowly made his way through the bar, he passed a decorative mirror, and took a second look at his reflection. His once sleek, shinny hair was duller than ever, messy and unkempt, and he needed to shave. Peering at his cold gray eyes, he felt nervous just looking at himself. No wonder almost everyone in the bar stared at him as he passed them, trying to escape without being noticed.

He thought he made it Scott-free, and didn't expect what happened next, but thanked Merlin he had good reflexes as he was pounced upon making his way around the corner. He didn't hear the spells uttered and couldn't get a good look at his attacker, but managed to produce a fragile Sheild Charm. It did little good for him, and he could feel the more powerful magic working its way through his Shield. It was in that moment that he remembered that he could kill if he needed to. The idea made him sick to the stomach, but he managed to convince himself momentarily that it might be necessary this time. He did his best to fend off the Death Eater, and when he managed to throw him off for a second, he took off running down the street. But he was followed and struck down again. This time, as he lay uncomfortably on his back, he looked up at the man looming above him, and struggled to get his wand into his hand. The man chuckled slightly, and suddenly Draco recognized the laugh. "Macnair," he hissed as he blasted him off his feet. Scrambling to get off the ground, he threw curses at Macnair with all of his anger and hatred for the world coursing through him.

As he made his way to stand over his defeated enemy, Draco felt like an animal. He felt detached from this experience, as though he was not himself. And, as he pointed his wand at Macnair's chest, he could only think of one proper spell.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

**A/N:** I know, another Draco-heavy chapter. I have plans for the next chapter to be Hermione-heavy, because, well you know, she's going to be obsessing**. **Reviews?_  
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	8. Eight

**Author's Note:** I have returned my loves! I own nothing but the pink laptop I type things on. Heehee. (Inspiration: _Best of Me_ by Sum 41)

* * *

Seconds after he watched the light in Macnair's eyes fade, Draco hesitated on the pavement. He was unsure of his next move. And his actions were starting to effect him, as Hermione had once told him they would. He couldn't believe he was beginning to feel regret or shame, because the Draco Malfoy everyone knew did not experience shame. Maybe it was because he was alone in the world, or because he'd spent too much time with goodie-two-shoes, but he was beginning to get scared. Everything he had done that he thought would keep him...them...safe, was a lie. He wasn't saving anyone. He had done too much killing_. _

"No use bitching about it now, ol' boy," he scolded himself under his breath. He took a deep mouthful of cold winter air and swallowed it. The cold air pushed its cruel way down his throat, and briskly woke him up. He had to get out of here, but for the first time, he couldn't think of a single place where he was safe to go. And the realization that if he Apparated too far away, Hermione would never find him. If, in fact she was looking, he was sure she wouldn't think to look anywhere he would look to find himself. Draco chuckled at the idea. "Finding myself, what a trip."

Nevertheless, he braced himself for being followed, and turned away from Macnair. He hurried his way down the road, not sure where he was really heading, but before he reached the main drag intersection, he Apparated without really meaning to.

Upon landing uncomfortably on his back, for a moment, Draco didn't open his eyes. Taking a breath, he smelled the air around him, and his eyes opened in shock. The Forest of Dean, he hadn't been here since he had been little. He had been four or five, and his mother had taken him one day when his father had been in a particularly bad mood. He couldn't remember if his mother had been beaten, but he did remember her hexing his father from the foyer. If he was correct, it was the same ferocious Bat-Bogey Hex the girl Weasley was known. Was her name Ginny? Draco felt sure it was, but his own reasons for caring were lost to him.

At any rate, he felt a bit safer now, as he didn't think anyone would think to look for him here, since he had no attachment to this place. It was a beautiful forest, he decided, as he wandered around. Soon, he would need to make some sort of camp, but he wasn't sure how to go about that. He raised his wand, and in the hopes that this would go well, attempted to produce a proper tent, but all he produced was a rather shabby-looking one. For a fleeting moment, he thought of Hermione. Were she here, she would have undoubtedly been the one preparing the camp, and since she never produced anything second-rate he had a feeling her production would have been far more grandiose. With a sigh, he stepped into the small tent, and was relieved that it wasn't too bad after all. Once that was done, he placed a few minor incantations around him, hoping to give himself some amount of protection. He did not dare put up too many spells, because he knew anyone looking for him would be able to sense him better the more magic he used.

He went to bed that night, cold and alone, allowing exhaustion overtake tossed and turned, plagued by thoughts of Hermione, wondering where she was. Probably, the Burrow. She would have no reason to hang around and hope for him to come back. That was exactly what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to wait for him, forever, but he knew Hermione was too smart for that. She might be hurt and weak for now, but sooner rather than later, she would be back to taking action. It was never like her to give in to her emotions unless she was under pressure. And the fact of the matter was, without him around, she was no longer under any pressure. He, on the other hand, was quite under pressure to survive this War. He had cast in his lots with the losing side, he was sure of it.

So why was he here? Why not beg his way back into favor with the Dark Lord? Oh, that's right. Draco knew to his very bones that as a traitor he had no hope of re-establishment. Not that he was really considering the idea..was he? He could imagine exactly how it would go:

"Oh hello there! Draco here, just...returning to your rule. Nothing wrong with that." The whole idea was ludicrous. He wasn't that much of a dolt, or, at least he told himself he wasn't.

So, he resolved to continue on his way, aiding the Order rather unintentionally, murdering murderers here and there. Perhaps he would do some good. Hell, he'd already done away with two Death Eaters, it was likely he'd encounter more. The least he could do for Hermione was to kill some more. Even though she never would approve of him actually killing people, he had to believe that he was doing good by clearing away some of the defenses that were going to stand in the Order's way. He was sorry for all he had done to her, and maybe, just maybe, he could tell her he was sorry through his actions. And someday, maybe he would see her again, and be able to say the words to her beautiful face._  
_

* * *

Hermione was halfway done convincing herself to try to enjoy her time at the Burrow when she arrived right outside the gigantically misshapen house. If she was going to get through her time here, she had to focus on keeping herself busy. Lucky for her, there was always plenty of work at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was always in need of help with something; and Hermione quickly made it known to her that she was gladly at her disposal. Mrs. Weasley, who had, as of late, looked very stressed, was grateful to Hermione's assistance, but after a few hours of Hermione constantly tidying up around her, folding laundry, and scrubbing pots, she knew something was very wrong. Hermione was annoyed that the older woman saw so easily through her cheerful facade, but was even more wary of just when the questions would start flying.

And so it was surprising when they did not come as quickly as she dreaded. Instead, she was quietly dismissed from Mrs. Weasely's sight, who seemed exasperated. As she had exhausted her primary escape, she turned to homework. Or, more accurately, research. She grabbed a few heavy books from her room, and curled up in a cushy chair in an empty room. Two hours into her reading, she was feeling refreshed and much better. There was nothing better than a few hours away from the rest of the world, immersed in pure, perfect research.

"You're so odd, Hermione," said Harry, who had come in silently and sat down in the chair across from her. He threw a few logs in the fire, which was slowly dying.

"There's nothing odd about reading."

"No, I suppose not."

Hermione didn't reply, shifting in her seat. Resting the book on her knees, she went back to her reading with one eye on Harry. He fell silent for a little while, seemingly concentrated on the scars on his hand that had never fully healed. He ran his fingers slowly over the words. "I must not tell lies," he whispered, a bit of humor in his voice. Hermione sighed.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"Hmm?" He look up suddenly. "Oh...well, its just that everyone's worried about you. Ron and me especially. Mrs. Weasley thinks something's wrong with you..."

"Nothing's wrong with me Harry. I'm quite fine."

Harry chuckled a little, but coughed to cover it when he caught Hermione's raised eyebrow. "Hermione, don't be stupid. You've never been good at lying. I can't make you talk, I know that. But, just know I'm here for when you're ready, alright? Anytime."

Hermione nodded. "I know."

"I mean it. Really."

"Ok. But really Harry, I think I'm fine."

"If you say so 'Mione." He got up from the seat, looked at her hard for a moment, the worry lines on his forehead creating creases that made him look older. He sighed slightly and walked out.

A few days later, Hermione found herself packing to return to Hogwarts. It was the last place she wanted to be at this point, but there was nothing she could do. She hadn't thought much about Draco, surprisingly, but considering the fact he might not be at the castle, he was suddenly on her mind again. Would he really be there when she returned? The castle was the safest place for him that she could think of, but after he had left her, she had no idea where he had gone. If he had gone somewhere far away, how would he get back to Hogwarts?

Beyond that, he was wanted by the Death Eaters for being a traitor. It couldn't possibly be safe for him on Platform 9 and 3/4, so what was the likelihood he would brave the crowd? He was so well-known that there was no doubt he would be spotted. But part of her desperately wanted him to come back. If only to see him again, just to see him. She felt like everything was her fault. She had caused so much trouble by getting involved with him, put them both in tons of danger. Yet he seemed to see something in her. She had risked so much to save him, as he had for her. Her foolishness had caused so much trouble, and she was lucky everyone dear to her was alive.

Yet, despite everything, perhaps she was crazy for feeling so guilty. She had never actually done anything wrong. Folding her socks, it occurred to her that Draco had been the one to initiate their relationship. She was merely a victim in the midst of his stupid games. And yet...she couldn't lie to herself. She wanted to be with him, she had always wanted things to work out. And if he was somewhere out there, dying perhaps, it was entirely her fault. And she needed to find a way to save him, and fix everything she had screwed up._  
_

* * *

Draco was ashamed of himself, and yet, a little proud too. Having become a silent assassin for the Order, who, unfortunately had no clue he was helping them, he was actually doing some good in the world. But he wasn't proud of the cost. With each person he put an end to, the greater the body count. And, literally, bodies were starting to pile up across the country. In less than four days he had killed five more Death Eaters and burned down three of their homes. None of them had seen him coming, none. He had gotten so good at sneaking past security spells, and the accuracy of his spellwork was beginning to become scarily accurate. He barely had to try when he uttered the Killing Curse...and he was becoming a little afraid of himself.

The blood on his hands was starting to effect him, and his mission was losing its grandeur. Even though his work was turning up in the Daily Prophet, he was coming off more as a serial killer than a hero. Even though he was killing very evil people, the media wasn't exactly congratulating him. It seemed that more than anything, people were afraid of him. Luckily, he was careful to remain anonymous, but he was silly to think that he could continue to get away with his escapades. Someday, someone was bound to catch on to him, and more than anything, he was terrified for his life. There was no way that Voldemort was unaware of what was happening to his army, and yet, with only eight people missing, Draco had a vague feeling that the Dark Lord wasn't yet concerned. It wasn't as though he had made too large of a dent even with how well he had done in so short of a time. And while it was clear that no one knew he was responsible, not a day went by that he didn't feel his pursuers on his tail. They were getting closer and closer to their target, and soon, they would realize where he was and close in for the kill.

And so, in a decisive move, Draco packed up his things and headed for London. It was time to go back to Hogwarts.

If he was to do this properly, he needed to lay low. He couldn't risk staying at the Leaky Cauldron like he wanted, nor could he go to Diagon Alley. Instead, he robbed a Muggle and used the money to check into a hotel for the night_. _Even though there were no wizarding amenities, he had to admit that the Muggle hotel was nicer than expected. They certainly knew how to keep guests happy, and even though he fancied himself above them, he couldn't deny that the dinner he had in the hotel restaurant was quite nice and his bed was quite comfortable. He struggled to get the flat black thing on the wall to work, and had no idea what HBO was, and after pushing all the buttons on the small hand-held box he assumed was supposed to make the big black box show pictures, he suddenly thought of Hermione. He wished she was here, if only to help him. More than that, he just wanted to see her face and run his fingers through her curly hair. He knew she'd laugh if she could see him now, and the image of her smiling lightened his dark mood.

As long as he got on the train with no issues, he would get another chance with her, he was sure of it. He had a lot to say, and more apologies than he was sure he would be able to actually force himself to say. He knew she would take him back whether she trusted him or not; he was sure of it. He knew how her mind worked. She always fought to find the best in people, and though she would try to fight him on this, she would forgive him faster than she wanted to. Just being at Hogwarts, safe and sound, reformed, would be enough to settle himself back into her heart. It would be just that easy.

The biggest problem he had to deal with now, he decided, as he went to bed, was how to say the things she needed to hear. He could apologize all he wanted, but he could never take back what he had done. He was a guilty man, evil to the core, but he still had a heart. He could pretend it didn't matter what other people said, that they could tell her exactly what he had done, but he believed that she would see past her. They would slander his name, worse than he had himself. They would never support them, and they would always be his enemies. But she loved him, he could feel it. And he loved her. He just hoped that would be enough.

* * *

Standing on the Platform with students bustling around her, Hermione's concentration was centered on one thing. She looked through the crowd, scouring it for a flash of silvery blonde hair. So far, there was nothing. He wasn't here, and she was having trouble holding herself together. And then, in the corner of her eye, she swore she saw him enter the Platform through the brick wall, but then, just as she had seen him, he disappeared again, into thin air. She stared at the wall for minute, waiting to see him again, and then realized she was being spoken to.

"Hermione? Hermione! Come on, let's go!" Harry was yanking on her arm, pulling her towards the train. He shoved her up the stairs and into the train, and grabbed her trunk from her idle hands. As soon as he'd stowed it, he led her, with Ron following close behind them, to a compartment in the back. As they passed through the compartments, she looked everywhere but found no sign of him. If Draco was on the train, he was doing a good job of hiding from her.

Sighing, she decided to suck it up and deal, letting it go. She needed to stop obsessing. Instead of being as quiet as usual with her nose in a book, Hermione resolved to actually pay attention to Harry and Ron for once. Looking up, she noticed Ginny wasn't in the compartment with them, and she wasn't expecting that. Ron seemed to sense her confusion, or else he felt he needed to make conversation.

"Ginny's getting Luna and Neville, right?"

"Yeah," replied Harry, but even he seemed disinterested,staring out the window as the train began moving. "They'll be here soon I guess."

"Probably," Ron agreed, as he dug into a chocolate frog and oddly enough, the Daily Prophet. "I wonder who keeps killing all these Death Eaters...they just found another body. It isn't the Order, I asked my dad, and as far as he's heard, they're all unsolved mysteries."

"Maybe there's a cover-up at the Ministry? Maybe they've got special forces they don't want the public to know about."

"I'm not sure, Harry. If that was the case, why would we even hear about it? It doesn't seem likely they would make Bellatrix and Macnair's deaths public knowledge if they had anything to do with it."

"Yeah, but its good they're dead, Hermione. It makes the Ministry look better."

"I don't know Harry, I think 'Mione's right. Wouldn't the Order be involved if the Ministry is?"

"Maybe," Harry said, and the he was lost in thought. Ron fell quiet too, concentrating on the Quidditch scores of the season, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts again. She looked out the window at her own reflection, and felt a little ashamed at her looks. Stress had really taken its toll, and her hair was frizzing beyond help. Digging in her bag, she found a mirror and her brush, and tamed her hair the best she could, twisted it into a knot at the back of her neck, and tried to smooth it out. Never one to spend time on makeup, she smoothed on a little chapstick and left it at that. She was satisfied with the improvement she had made, and settled in for a nap.

When she woke up, Harry was shaking her shoulders gently, telling her they had arrived at Hogwarts. She yawned and got up, grabbed her bag and headed off the train. Their trunks and such were already at the castle, so the three of them melted into the crowd heading to the carriages, but just as she rounded the bend to where the Threstrals waited, a hand wrapped itself around her forearm and pulled her away from the crowd.

Hermione spun around in shock, but a gloved hand grabbed hold of her face, gently covering her eyes as they pulled her out of sight. The smell of the dragonhide gloves was somewhat familiar, and when she was released, she didn't open her eyes for a moment, unsure of who was standing in front of her. Standing there, vulnerable and silent, she heard someone cough, and reluctantly opened her eyes. And then she threw herself into the tall blonde man's arms, knocking him off balance.

Draco didn't push her away, but he wasn't exactly hugging her in return. His arms were wrapped awkwardly and loosely around her, but Hermione didn't care. Pressing her face against his pea coat, she breathed in his cologne, and caught the scent of trees and smoke.

"Hermione," he said suddenly. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't really a statement. He sounded a little uncomfortable, and she realized he was wary of lingering outside.

"Draco."

"Um...I just...I want to apologize. I've been, well, I've done things I'm not proud of, and I'm sorry. Nothing makes any sense, even right now, and I'm sorry for what I've done. I know nothing I can do will fix anything, but that's okay because I've done a lot of thinking. I just want another chance, if you'll give me one."

"You're the one killing the Death Eaters, aren't you?"

"I...how do you know about that?"

"It's in the newspapers...I'm not dumb Draco."

He didn't look happy. "It's cold. Let's just go inside, alright? I don't want to miss the feast. And its not that safe here."

"Okay, but can we talk?" Hermione wasn't going to let him dodge her again. But she had no choice but to let him lead her up to the castle. She grabbed his arm as he started walking.

"Yes, sure, let's just get out of here."

**A****/N:** Sorry it took so long to write this! I'll try and update faster next time..._  
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	9. Nine

**Author's Note:** So it's been several months since I updated. I still own nothing. Hope you like the update! (Inspiration: _Everybody Hurts_ by Avril Lavigne)

* * *

"What are you doing here," Hermione demanded as she followed Draco up the path. "You have no right showing up like this, out of, out of nowhere!" When she grabbed his arm, Draco turned to look at her. He saw all the fire of a lion in her eyes. He also saw the pain. He bit his lip and forced a smirk across his mouth; he didn't want her to see how he really felt.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me?"

With what he could only describe as a groan of exasperation, Hermione scowled at him. "I am! But the castle is on lockdown. Our every move is being watched," Her eyes traveled around them, groping for movement in the darkness. Draco was just as uneasy. She shook her head to rearrange the hair that was falling in disarray into her face. "You left. You can't just expect to be welcomed back with open arms."

"I'm not expecting anything. I just thought you'd be a little more understanding."

"What am I supposed to understand? That you're a murderer," the atrociousness of his words was getting to her, and her voice was rising into a loud, hoarse whisper. If they'd only been having a lovers' quarrel he might have mentioned how adorable she looked when she got mad. Since they weren't, he didn't want to risk her hexing his body parts off, so he didn't mention it, and instead tried to maintain the partial peace of their conversation.

"I was only trying to help the best way that I can."

"Killing people doesn't solve the big picture, Draco," Hermione stated defiantly.

"The big picture? Really Hermione you think that's what's important? Do you even hear yourself?"

"Don't question my sanity, Draco. You're going about this all wrong. The Order's trying to avoid a massive death toll, and I fully support them."

Draco's temper was raising by the second but all he could do was scowl. "Oh really? Last I noticed this was a _war_. I killed people who deserved to die. I've cleared some room for you guys to make some headway. There'll be a bigger death toll if these people aren't stopped."

"Well your little escapade playing hero is going to get you killed." Hermione ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm herself. When she looked up at him her eyes were pleading and wet with tears. She looked tired, and for the first time, Draco could really tell what a toll the war was taking. He wondered how bad he looked; it had to be hard for her to look at him like this. She sighed. "Look, I get it, I do, but this is not the way to fight this war. If you want to help, get information from them, go to the Order. Don't run around killing people."

Draco shook his head and bit his lip in annoyance. "You know I can't do that."

"I know that you wont," Hermione retorted.

"I have to do it my way." He knew he sounded like a stubborn child, but so did she.

"Your way is an idiotic suicide plan," she laughed hoarsely, though it was clear she wasn't really amused. It only made him angrier.

"You don't understand Hermione! You have no clue what its like out there! You don't know how hard it is to get back in the midst of all that! if I thought it was possible, don't you think I'd have tried it already?"

"No, I don't. You're a coward, Draco. You're scared."

"I'm not scared of what's out there," Draco gestured to the darkness. "I'm scared I'm losing you."

"Well I'm scared of who you're turning into! All this killing-it will change you."

Draco couldn't hold himself back. He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. "I'm scared of that too," he whispered.

Hermione sighed. "I know this is hard, believe me, I know."

"I shouldn't have come here," Draco said finally, but he couldn't pull away just yet. He knew he had to leave, but he wanted to stay with her until he really had to let her go. "I've put you in danger. I have to go before we get to the gates. Flitwick can't let me in."

He looked down at Hermione, whose eyes were overflowing with tears. She was getting his cloak all wet, but in the dewy night air, it didn't really matter. As soon as it started raining, he would get soaked anyway.

"I thought...I thought that you might stay," she whimpered, clutching his cloak in her hands. For such a small woman, she sure had some strength in her.

"You know I can't stay. As far as everyone's concerned, I'm a Death Eater." He finally pulled himself from her grasp, turning to walk back down the path.

"But you're not," she said, wheeling around to stare at him. The way Hermione pouted reminded Draco of how she might have looked as a child. The young woman before him had lost all hints of childhood. She had aged gracefully, but she had seen more death than she deserved to. There was no way to get back those years, as much as he wished she could live a different life. She deserved so much better, but he couldn't give it to her, and that bothered him. He wanted to just take her away from all of this. He couldn't make amends for what he had done,but he refused to drag her down with him. She was innocent, and he wanted her to remain that way.

"I might as well be. I've killed people Hermione. Too many. And I'm going to continue to. It's all I can offer you as protection." He started walking away, hating that their meeting was ending like this.

He heard her sob before the impact of her body rushing into him made him stagger on the path. He turned around and she threw her arms around him, nestling her head into his chest. "You can stay. Stay here at school. With me. It's the safest place for both of us. You can protect me here."

"I can't. I'm sorry." With that, he pulled free a second time and quickly went down the path. When he reached the bottom of the hill where the train had been, he turned around to look at her one last time. But when he pulled his hood over his head, she had already turned and was heading back to the gates. He wanted to kill himself for the terrible way their meeting had gone, but there was nothing he could do. He pulled his wand from his pocket and whispered the spell that would take him to London as a single tear threatened to fall from his eyes.

**A/N:** So a short update. I'm not super pleased with it, but it has its purpose. Reviews?


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